


Sufferage And Temperance

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2010-07-01
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Spike and Dru attend a political meeting.





	Sufferage And Temperance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cafedemonde](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cafedemonde).



> This is for cafedemonde Who asked: ...can I get some classic Spike/Drusilla, setting a 1920's suffrage meeting where Dru wants to speak to the women gathered?
> 
> Well, I set this in summer of 1920, just on the cusp of the ratification of women's sufferage in the US. And I could have added more fun historical bits if I'd, you know, started this before the day after the month ended... Mostly gen, I'd call this worksafe.

“Oo… Spike!” Drusilla pulled taut on his arm, not for the first time that night, her smile open and eager toward the building across the road, it’s doors open to let in some of the faint summer breeze. Mosquitoes darted about in the buttery pool of light, and the sounds of chairs scraping on wooden floors and the buzz of many voices carried out to them.

Spike tipped back his hat and peered into the meeting hall. Looked like a full crowd. “No, pet, that looks boring, and too many witnesses, besides. I’m sure we can find a dance or a party somewhere in this town.”

She persisted, tugging him along behind her. “I want to see them and their lovely dreams. I’ll play Cassandra, tonight.”

“It’s not a theatre, love. Remember the textile mill you thought was a ballet?”

“All the spindles, spindles, spindles!” Drusilla pirouetted her way up the stairs, and then there was nothing Spike could do but follow.

“Louisville Ladies’ Sufferage Society” read the banner over the door, bedecked with red, white and blue ribbons and a surfeit of bunting. “This is going to be dull,” Spike groaned, but pulled an insincere smile out for the lady in a shapeless gown. What did they call that? “The esthetic look?” Looked like a woman woke up and rolled herself in her bed-sheet. Then again, perhaps that was a good thing. He gave the matron a leer.

Her brows compressed in slight confusion. “It’s always good to see young men coming to these meetings,” she offered, and held out a printed pamphlet. “It’s not just a woman’s issue.”

“Too true,” he said, and grinned wolfishly at her. “Are your tits hanging loose?”

Her brows now climbed her forehead. “I… I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, ‘Ladies should have a right to choose.’ Their leaders, of course.” He saluted with the pamphlet and turned to see what trouble Dru had gotten up to in the intervening time. It had been nearly a minute, so chances are, quite a bit.

Drusilla was seated, straight backed and attentive as a schoolgirl, listening to a woman in a more traditional dress, all gauze and feathers. “…and of course, there is the Bluegrass Ladies’ Temperance Society, who meet out in Shelbyville. Mrs. Minor is from that group, as is Mrs. O’hare, who isn’t here tonight, but a lovely lady.”

Spike took hold of the top of Drusilla’s chair-back. “Enjoying your political involvement, my dove?”

Drusilla turned and winked at him, a finger pressed to her lips.

“Oh, how do you do? You are..?”

Spike grabbed the woman’s gesturing hand and pumped it in a handshake. “Looking forward to sending my little woman out to vote for me,” he said in what he thought was a good American accent.

Drusilla swatted his arm – quite hard, but then the mad aren’t known for their control. “Bad Spike! You should be nice to Mrs. Hayden. Her rotten son leaves her impoverished and alone all the last years of her life.”

Mrs. Hayden gaped, and Spike let her hand go. “Oh, it’s going to be one of those nights, is it, Cassandra?”

Drusilla rose regally, head high. “I’d like to address the group. After all, we English women have had the vote for two years now. Well, over a certain age, of course.”

Spike squinted. “Bints got the vote in old blighty? When did that happen?”

Drusilla patted his cheek, speaking to Mrs. Hayden and the growing crowd of onlookers. “William doesn’t read the papers, poor boy. All the more reason someone should vote for him.”

Spike still felt confused. “You really want to vote, love? You know they do that during the daytime.”

“A truly informed electorate,” Drusilla spread her hands wide, eyes seeing far beyond the room they were in. “So many lovely disasters avoided. So much suffering ended. It must be stopped!”

“Or,” Spike stepped behind her quickly, taking her hands and lowering them to her sides, “We go grab a bite to eat and leave the boring old bats to their chatter.”

There were various gasps and condemnations, but Spike was already dragging a very unwilling Dru to the exit.

“Prohibition!” She shouted. “Spike! Let’s make them start prohibition!”

“I don’t think they need your help, kitten,” he said, hoisting her onto his shoulder.

She sagged against him. “That’s the saddest truth,” she said.

Spike was already scenting the air for whiskey, a spring in his step as he heard the commotion of ruffled feathers behind them.


End file.
